Desolation Anxiety
by random2
Summary: Due to anger management problems, Harry and Draco find themselves stuck in the most unusual of places. The two try to work out their differences in a calm and civil manner. Too bad that doesn’t work as well as they thought. (slash)
1. Default Chapter

Desolation Anxiety - Chapter 1 Title : Desolation Anxiety (1/?)  
  
Author name : Random  
  
Author email : lostophelia@hotmail.com  
  
Rating : PG-13  
  
Summary : Due to anger management problems, Harry and Draco find themselves stuck in the most unusual of places. The two try to work out their differences in a calm and civil manner. Too bad that doesn't work as well as they thought.  
  
Disclaimer : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Note : The following story takes place sometime after the fourth book, most likely in Harry's sixth year. Don't ask me, I'm only writing this thing. It does contain **slash**, so keep that in mind please.  
  
  
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Certainly I wasn't over reacting to this whole scenario. Yes, it did have parts in it that I found completely impossible to believe, but I am not someone to go mad because I can't believe my wonderfully unbelievable luck.  
  
In fact, had someone sat me down right at this moment and slowly--very, very slowly--explained everything to me, I might actually understand it a bit. What I need is a book to carry around (despite that I would look like a Granger-wannabe) with a complete listing of terrible things that happen in the world and how to avoid them. I would be indestructible.  
  
However, instead of comfortably browsing through the long listing of god-forsaken things that could happen to me, I found myself trudging through some slimy green substance, which didn't smell all that great in any form.   
Said green liquid seemed to have some form of a brain, as I'm quite sure it was tickled pink when it sucked the boots from my feet a few yards back.  
  
Not that I had given them up without a fight, mind you, but after they had actually been eaten by the slime, I had a hard time finding courage enough to go after them. How in the world my boots could have sunk in liquid that is only five inches deep is beyond me, but they seemed to have done that very thing.  
  
So, after much snickering from the only other person down here (although where _here_ is, I have no idea), I scraped the remainder of my pride from the back of my mind and went on without my precious boots.   
  
Of course, said other person could only be the one person I wished most to not be near at the present moment. The Boy Wonder himself, all clad up in his scarlet quidditch robes (with boots!), smirking over the short lived humiliation I had taken part in moments earlier.  
  
I still am rather upset about walking barefoot, but at least I haven't lost my robes. Yet. I'm sure if I keep on with all of these positive thoughts I'll lose them any second now.....Wouldn't that just be _perfect_?  
  
I should be fighting with him at the moment, instead of musing over lost shoes, but we've already had the blame discussion and somehow it ended up coming down to being the fault of myself, which is not entirely true at all.  
  
If Potter hadn't distracted me from trying to get back to the dungeons, we wouldn't be in this mess at all. Although, now that I think back to it, finding the dungeons shouldn't have been that hard to begin with. I suppose that's what happens when you run into (literally...) The Boy Who Lived whilst trying to sneak around Filch and the demon cat.  
  
Of course, I wouldn't have had to sneak around like some Gryfindor wannabe if Pansy hadn't left my Defense Against the Dark Arts book in the library. Sometimes I wonder why I trust anyone enough to lend them my things.   
  
She had seemed rather nervous about telling me she left my book though, so at least we've gotten the fear thing down right. I should have made her go and get it, but I could just tell that was going to go through one ear and out the other. It was best to just get it myself, I must have thought. How mistaken I was.  
  
Actually, it _is_ my fault we're down here, but I'm having enough trouble admitting that to myself. I'll be damned if I'm throwing out the rest of my pride and dignity to tell him so.   
  
"How long have we been down here?"  
  
Potter is now trying to begin a civil conversation...I sense an ulterior motive.....Of course, the way he's grumbling his sentence out, he certainly isn't trying very well. Gryffindors must just be too busy with righteousness and 'bravery' to concern themselves with conversational skills.  
  
Not that I've taken a long winded course in civility, but I'm sure I'm quite capable of masking my hatred better than he is. I bet I don't even grit my teeth when I talk. Ha!  
  
"Too long," I reply, glaring slightly at the wall protruding out of the ground in front of our path. It's quite convenient that we would come to a dead end, isn't it? The sudden urge to run around in circles and scream is bubbling up inside of me, but I think I'll wait until I'm completely insane to go and do that. I may not have my boots, but I still have a little bit of my sanity left.  
  
Potter seems to notice the wall two seconds after I have, mostly because he just walked straight into it. Gryfindors never were known for their outstanding grace, were they? Or perhaps that's just Potter? I wouldn't be surprised...  
  
"Really smooth, Potter," I comment, not bothering to stifle my snickers as he rubs his face slightly, checking to see if the 'crash' broke his glasses. Good things do come out of being stuck in an ancient tunnel without an exit.  
  
Not surprisingly, he doesn't bother to respond to my comment. Gryffindors never were one for conversation, I suppose, which must be why he suffered at it moments ago.  
  
Not that I want Potter to talk to me, mind you. Don't jump to any conclusions so early about me or my hatred for Potter. It's just that talking has been known to prolong the loss of sanity.  
In case I'm the only one who has noticed, the only things I can talk to down here are Potter and the slime.   
  
And, at the moment, I'm quite peeved at the slime.  
  
"No, really, Potter, your grace amazes even me."  
  
I'm already starting to feel better. They really should bottle this stuff.   
  
"That must be because you don't have any."  
  
....The bottle is not supposed to talk back. I want a refund.  
  
I'm not the one who ran head first into a solid wall am I?"  
  
"Wait....Maybe it isn't solid....This could be the exit!"   
  
And a civilization of boot eating rats could be nesting in my hair.  
  
Perhaps having only me for company has driven Potter to insanity, because he's ignoring the look I'm giving him and starting to push against the wall with both hands.   
  
Maybe I should help?   
  
"Try ramming your head into it again, Potter, that might open it."   
  
Helping others really does feel wonderful....  
  
"Why not your head, Malfoy? It seems to be pretty thick."   
  
Touché, Potter. How long did it take you to think up that one, hm? I can imagine Gryfindors sitting up in their common room, a nice pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other, trying to decide the best retorts to any possible insult.   
  
You know, I'm sure that must be why Weasley never has anything good to say. Too many literary skills involved for him.   
  
"At least," he begins, looking up at me with a sparkle in his eyes, "I still have my shoes."  
  
I could kill him now and no one would ever know. I could be very discreet about such things, if they happened to ever find his body (which isn't likely). 'Potter? Oh, I have no idea what he was doing severed in half in a long-forgotten cave, I've been snogging Pansy this entire time, do pardon me.'  
  
She may not be the brightest knife in the drawer, but Pansy has her uses. Or at least she would if she co-operated from time to time.  
  
I even know several people who would think me for such a generous act.  
  
"Enjoy your little session with the wall, Potter, I'm going to go find the exit."   
  
That caught his attention.   
  
Jumping up, he grabs the wrist of my robes and, for a moment, it almost looks like he's going to jerk me backwards. However, he settles upon just tugging my arm slightly and then managing a look of puzzlement.   
  
"Do you hear that?"   
  
Actually, I hear nothing but Potter's breathing. This symbolizes two things for certain. The first is that Potter is off his rocker and there is nothing but us in this forsaken dungeon/tunnel/cave/thing. The second would be that alarms are going off all over my brain, alerting me that if I can hear him breathing this loudly, there is a good chance it's because he's dangerously close to me at the moment.   
  
I can't say that the alarms in my brain have ever been proven wrong before, so panic decides to sweep itself across my nervous system and try to get me at least ten feet away from the other boy.   
  
However, Potter's grace (or lack thereof) seems to be contagious, as I make it a good two feet before I realize he's still holding on to me and we both tumble into the slimy water.   
  
Not the most pleasant thing I've ever been a part of, but it's even worse considering it's something else that is my fault. I'm getting rather good at this kind of stuff, really.  
  
"Smooth one, Malfoy."  
  
"Shut up, Potter, and let go of me already! And get off!"   
  
"I'm not even holding onto you anymore, Malfoy!"   
"Then why is your arm still attached to mine?!"   
"....That's not my arm, Malfoy...."  
  
"It's not?"   
  
"No."  
  
"Oh."  
  
With that, panic seizes me again and I scramble up and bolt forward. Conveniently forgetting Potter was laying in front of me, I only just happened to trip over him and fall face first back into the water.   
  
I should have stayed in bed today, I really should have.   
  
Potter had apparently tried to do the same thing I had, but my tripping over him must have post-poned all escaping he had in mind. However, he didn't seem too concerned, and even smiled.   
  
I didn't see anything to smile about.   
  
"Neville! What are you doing down here?"  
  
What in the seventh layer of hell is going on here? I swear, Gryfindors multiply like bunnies. Now there are **two** of them. Just, great.  
  
"I-I'm lost."   
  
As it would figure. Of course the smaller Gryfindor wouldn't know the way out of here. Because, of course, the only other person down here would have to be entirely useless and unimportant to the whole world.   
  
Don't I have the grandest luck you've ever seen? Really, someone come and congratulate me on my fine achievements since being down here. Anyone?   
  
"We are too, apparently."   
  
That's right, Potter, ruin my life some more. Go ahead and tell him about my impeccable grace while your at it, why won't you?  
  
"Where are Malfoy's shoes?"   
  
..........  
  
"I hate my life."   
  
They both turn to look at me, and Potter gives me an unsympathetic look. "This is still all your fault."   
  
"How is it my fault that he's down here? Why do you always have people following you, Potter?"   
  
"Why are you always an insufferable git, Malfoy?"  
  
"It's not **my** fault we're down here!"   
  
"Yes it is!"   
  
By now we've both managed to stand and are in the middle of a staring match, whilst verbally attacking each other. We're just that good.   
  
Longbottom has also stood, but thinks it wiser to stand a good distance to the side of us, as if he knows we'll both kill him if he intervenes. Still, that doesn't mean the goody Gryfindor isn't going to try to stop us from killing each other. "Umm....Harry? Malfoy?"   
  
Too bad for him he's ignored by both of us.  
  
"I was just trying to get my book, it's your fault that we fell into this stupid tunnel and your fault that the door closed!"   
  
"My fault?! How is it my fault that you tried to kill me?!"  
  
Oh, there is that....I suppose that conveniently slipped my mind for the time being. Not that it's that important anyway. Potter should have been more aware that I was going to attack him.  
  
"I wasn't trying to kill you! I just wanted to get my god damned book and go back to my common room and _sleep_."   
  
"Since when does going back to your common room include starting a fight with me?"   
  
"I thought I would try something new."   
  
Longbottom is now looking quite nervous, as we both seem to have a murderous glint in our eyes. Why shouldn't we? We're both stuck down here, why not vent some anger and finally fight without being stopped?  
  
"Please stop fighting, you two!"   
  
"Can't you just leave me alone for once?! Just because I'm a Gryfindor you have to fight with me?!"   
  
"The fact that you're the fucking Boy Who Lived helps to add to that, you know. Maybe if you weren't so perfect I wouldn't have this uncontrollable urge to sever you in two!"   
  
"Umm.....Guys?"   
  
"When will you get it through your head that I don't want any of this? I'm not perfect and I'm not special."   
  
"You certainly don't act like it!"   
  
"Like you don't?!"   
  
If Longbottom was at a loss before, he was even more so now. "Will you two please stop fighting?"   
  
As of now, we were quite close, which made for all the more reason why I had the sudden urge to reach out and beat him to a bloody pulp. It was obvious we both weren't leaving until one of us were dead, despite Longbottom's feeble attempts at stopping us.   
  
I had waited a very long time for this and I wasn't about to stop because yet another Gryfindor was trying to prolong the inevitable. Why not fight with Potter right now until we both were unable to move from exhaustion? Why not vent all my anger at him? Not only was he convenient, but he was willing to fight back.   
  
I may have not quite wanted it, but I always needed someone to bring me back to reality every now and then. Like I said, Potter is convenient.  
  
More than anyone else, he's always been the number one cause of these bursts of anger I tend to get. Just the fact that he's always here, always a reminder of who is he; more than anything he makes my blood boil. Maybe that's why I sometimes desire to hit him repeatedly with a brick. Or something equally as painful. It doesn't matter to me, I'm not all that picky.  
  
"If you would just open your bloody eyes, Malfoy, you might actually notice that, not only am I human, but you are too."   
  
"I'm quite aware of that fact, Potter, but I'm surprised you called yourself human. I was under the impression you thought yourself some sort of god for us all."   
  
"I have never considered us different, Malfoy, besides the fact that you are so intolerable!"   
  
"**I'm** intolerable?! Have you looked in a mirror lately?!"  
  
"Harry, I think I-" Longbottom's intervention ended abrubtly with a short gasp from him and his eyes going as wide a saucers. Words were apparently beyond him at the moment, but I could hardly pay any attention to him.   
  
Because, right now, alarms were banging against my skull and my nervous system seemed to be having trouble comprehending all the sudden emotions whirling around.  
  
The only thing my mind could focus on was the fact that I was kissing Harry Potter, with quite a bit of force, although the anger had already seemed to have drained from my body.   
  
Whatever possessed me to do such a thing kept me from allowing myself the luxury of pulling away as quickly as I could and fleeing. Some part of myself kept me standing there, holding on to the front of his robes, despite the obvious shock that was present in both of us.  
  
Common sense seemed to have fled at the first signs of danger, leaving behind some traces of anger, fear, and some sudden fleeting feeling of sadness. I would have thought on it longer, but thought processing was too difficult. It was even more so as panic finally filled my body and I jerked away from Potter in complete shock.   
  
On quiet observation, he didn't look any better than I did at the moment.   
  
Really the only sure details about him were the look of shock written across his flushed face, although he was quite rigid and tense. He didn't even relax the slightest bit when I backed a good fifteen feet away from him.  
  
I only made it that far before I sank to the ground and tried to convince myself I was still sane, although such a thought was quite impossible. How could I possibly still be sane?! There is no way in hell that I could have any sanity left at all. No way in hell.  
  
Longbottom, for once, seems to regain his senses before both of us do and clears his throat in embarrassment. "At least you stopped fighting....."  
  
That's one way to put it.   
  
Potter swallows and casts a look at me, shock still evident in his eyes. "Y-You...."   
  
I don't even bother to answer, as I'm not quite sure I even have it in my to think up something smart to say. I could say it was an accident, of course, but who would believe that? Was it even true? I hadn't wanted to kiss him, I know that for certain. My entire being was set upon the two of us tearing each other limb from limb; kissing didn't fit anywhere in there.  
  
"Maybe we should find the exit now?" Longbottom suggests timidly, although it doesn't really sound as timid as it might have. Right now he's the only one willing to speak.  
  
Okay, so he's one of two willing to speak.   
  
"You two have an enjoyable time, I'm going to stay here and drown myself."   
  
Finally, Potter returns his gaze to me and settles upon a look between anger and amazement. "_This_ is your fault."  
  
"I'm **quite** aware of that, Potter, but thank you dearly for bringing it to my attention!"   
  
"I should be the one angry here! You _kissed_ me!"   
  
Somehow, it sounds a lot worse now. I did kiss him, didn't I? Maybe I really should drown myself.  
  
"You think I don't know that, Potter? It wasn't intentional!"   
  
"It certainly seemed intentional!"   
  
"Umm....Guys?" Longbottom speaks up, finally managing to get out attention focused on him for the moment being. "This _is_ how it started last time, you know."   
  
Potter pales visibly for a moment and then turns away from both of us. "Maybe we should find that exit now."  
  
  
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Author's notes: Thank you very much for reading :) This is only the first chapter, so you aren't safe quite yet. I appologize for the lack of elaboration in this chapter, but oh well ^_^ 


	2. (2)

Desolation Anxiety : Chapter 2 Title : Desolation Anxiety (2/?)  
  
Author name : Random  
  
Author email : lostophelia@hotmail.com   
  
Spoilers : All four books  
  
Rating : PG-13  
  
Summary : Due to anger management problems, Harry and Draco find themselves stuck in the most unusual of places. The two try to work out their differences in a calm and civil manner. Too bad that doesn't work as well as they thought.  
  
Disclaimer : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Note : The following story takes place sometime after the fourth book, most likely in Harry's sixth year. Don't ask me, I'm only writing this thing.  
  
  
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Have you ever feared having the precious comfort of what has always been being taken away? I've heard over and over again how delicate life is and how careful we must choose our decisions, as they shape us over time. That may be so, but have you ever had something taken away from you that meant so very much to you and no one even knew, let alone cared? If you haven't, then you probably won't understand how I felt, walking through that tunnel, trying to ignore the glances I was receiving out of the corner of Harry Potter's eyes.   
  
Because if you haven't known what it is to lose every single ounce of that comfort and safety you've always had, then you can't possibly begin to even understand how I felt.  
  
Truthfully, what happened back at that dead end was not intentional in any way for me. I had been so angry at Potter, for six years worth of everything. For a split moment, I had thought we were going to kill each other, as he was just as angry as I was.   
  
Too bad I had to ruin it all, isn't it?   
  
That moment is burned into my mind and somehow the memory keeps bleeding into my vision, which is probably why I feel so utterly hopeless at the moment. Life has never been fair, but this is beyond anything else.   
  
I absolutely hate Potter for every possible thing that's happened to me in my life, which is why I automatically assume that he'll return my hatred at full blast. This is how I want my life to be and for someone to take it away is like being struck. Or maybe it's more a cold realization that, with my luck, the whole school will know of this and I'll never live it down.   
  
My comfort is the absolutely beautiful barrier I've managed to put up between Potter and myself. Hatred and loathing go through, but anything else manages to stay where it belongs. Apparently I'm too fucking stupid to consider that I would be the one that would take my own comfort away.  
  
And for what? A moment of the most comforting pain I've ever felt; it almost seemed beyond twisted. No one else can probably imagine how I felt there, either. No one ever does, do they?   
  
Well, imagine if you were to be pushed off a building and were plummeting to your inevitable death. Then imagine if you looked up and saw that no one pushed you off except yourself. That's how I feel.   
"Oh, Harry, I forgot to tell you!" Longbottom says suddenly, stopping and turning to look at Potter, who smiles at the other Gryffindor. "Seamus is down here somewhere, too."   
  
For a moment, Potter's smile fades and he looks as if he's just about to give up and start screaming in frustration. Somehow, he manages a surprised look and then even one of puzzlement. "How _did_ you two get down here anyway? And where is Seamus?"   
  
"I don't know, I lost him when we started getting chased by this big slime thing."   
  
"'Big slime thing', Longbottom? Really, great description."   
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter says, although he voices lacks malice and he suddenly looks very tired. "Neville, we had better find Seamus before we leave."   
  
No more was spoken out of any of us for a long period of time after that. There wasn't anything to say really. Potter seemed more exasperated than angry; or maybe he was just worn out. Whichever it was, he didn't fancy the idea of saying anything else, so that was just perfect with me.   
  
I was very tired of this whole day and everything that had come along with it. If anyone told me I would be brooding so much over a kiss then I wouldn't have listened to a word they had to say. But the fact of the matter was, it wasn't just a kiss. It was a kiss between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, which meant that life was about to get a tad bit worse for everyone.   
  
How? Well, I can certainly assure you that I'm not letting this whole matter slide until I get reassurance that Potter isn't going to blab to the whole school about what happened. While I'm at it, I'll go ahead and threaten Longbottom to tears, too. If Potter refuses, then I'll just have to blow Hogwarts up, that's all there is to it.   
  
All right, so maybe that's pushing it, but it's how I feel at the moment.   
  
I'm snapped back to reality as I fall headfirst in the murky water again. This whole thing was becoming irritatingly familiar and I just knew I would never live any of this down. Whether it be about my impeccable grace as of late or...other things.  
  
Sitting up was as far as I got, since I didn't really see the entire purpose of getting on my own two feet again. Nothing was going right, so why **not** just sit here until my body rotted and my corpse was devoured by mutant beetles.  
  
"Malfoy, are you coming or not?"   
  
I looked up slowly, finally allowing myself a very comforting, very chilling smile. "Not, Potter, but do have fun."   
  
"Would you stop being dramatic already? It was and still is your fault, but you don't see me whining about it, do you?" Potter inquired, although he looked very tense all of the sudden. "If we just pretend it never happened then we can both go on with our lives."   
  
How....admirable of him.   
  
"Oh, of course, Potter, let us just forget the whole thing, shall we?"   
  
How can I **forget**, Potter? How can I possibly forget? I've done plenty of downright stupid things in my life, but this is beyond my normal capabilities. Apparently I've outdone myself this time.   
  
I really wish I could, you know. If I could just forget this happened, then maybe I could convince myself that it **didn't** happen. Maybe I could....Maybe I could.  
  
He gives me another exasperated look. "Would you just stop being sarcastic for once?"   
  
How can he be so damned _calm_ about all of this?! He hasn't even tried to kill me yet! What **is** he on? How can I be on the verge of going insane (no, wait, I already am, aren't I?) and he's acting as if absolutely nothing happened!  
  
Maybe Potter has already gone insane.  
  
"No, Potter, I won't. I've apparently lost all sanity and I'm not going to stop now, oh no, I'm just going to continue on."  
  
I've tried to be calm about this, but either I'm just not trying hard enough or I've simply had enough. For just **once** I want something to go right in my life. Just once.  
  
"You already were insane and now you're blaming me for all of this, aren't you? Have you ever considered the fact that maybe I didn't like any of this any more than you did, but that doesn't change anything, does it?" Potter was practically radiating anger by this time. "Sitting here and whining about something _you_ did isn't going to just make it go away, is it? So, instead of acting like a child, why don't you _try_ and help us find the exit?"   
  
If I wasn't so unsure about how exactly Potter had gotten to be the leader in this conversation, then I might have noticed that he was shaking with rage. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was Harry Potter and I was Draco Malfoy, I might have noticed the humor in all of this. If Longbottom hadn't chosen that moment to alert us that we had somehow gotten to the exit (although how, I have no idea), then maybe I might have even just broke down and laughed right then.   
  
It was all just so damned hilarious; really, it was.   
  
Humor was only added when I realized that what I had previously tripped over was one of my, now chewed and disgusting, boots. Either my boot was following me, or Potter and I had been at the exit in the beginning and hadn't even noticed.  
  
  
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You can't possibly understand the complete relief I felt as we climbed out of that tunnel and were actually able to breathe fresh, clean air. How wonderful it was to not be trudging through slimy water.   
  
I had another sudden urge to get up and jump around, but somehow I managed to contain myself.   
  
The fact that we had just came out in the Forbidden Forest helped keep my excitement down just a tad.   
  
"I don't believe this," Potter sighed, leaning heavily against a tree. Longbottom, who was still climbing out of the tunnel, didn't look all that worried at all. Maybe he hadn't even noticed where we were yet....  
  
Not that it even mattered. I was too busy fighting with the now screaming voice in my head, trying to figure out how in the seventh layer of hell we had ended up here. **Why** have a tunnel leading to the Forbidden Forest?! Why even **have** a tunnel in the first place?!   
  
No Defense Against The Dark Arts book is worth this much trouble.  
  
"Oh, Harry, I remember Fred and George telling us about this!" Longbottom exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Remember?"   
  
"....No?"   
  
"You don't remember? But you were there- No....Wait....That must have been Ron....Well, it was one of you."   
  
".....Neville?"   
  
"Yes, Harry?"   
  
"How is it possible to get Ron and I confused?"   
  
"I really wasn't paying all that much attention, Harry."   
  
"....I see."   
  
Really, this has been a splendid day.   
  
Potter pushed himself up off the tree and brushed his hands on the side of his robes. "Did they say anything useful about the tunnel, Neville?"   
  
Climbing to his feet and casting a glance around at our surroundings, Longbottom shook his head. "No, they just mentioned that they had seen it once, but hadn't had time to explore it. Something about Filch and exploding Canary Creams."   
  
....All of the Weasleys are mad, I tell you. Stark raving MAD. Or perhaps they aren't.....After all, they didn't snog Harry Potter, now did they?   
  
Am I the **only** one that doesn't see the complete insanity of this all?!   
  
....Maybe I am losing it.  
  
"Well, we had better at least try to get out of here. At least it isn't night yet," Potter replies, starting off in the general northwest direction.   
  
I really do hate optimistic people. Everything good will _always_ happen. There is _always_ some bloody hope for us all. Sure there is.   
  
Longbottom nods his agreement and follows Potter, still quite happy for some reason. Perhaps it's just his nature to be completely oblivious. Although, he strikes me as being smarter than that; or as smart as a Gryffindor can get.  
  
Have I mentioned I dislike the Forbidden Forest? Not because it's particularly dangerous (okay, so it is, but that's beside the point), but simply because I'm here instead of tucked safely in my bed- Wait a minute....  
  
Wait just a damned minute.  
  
**When** did it become daylight?! I could have absolutely sworn that, when I left my common room, it was nearly midnight. There is no way we spent that much time in that forsaken tunnel. .....Right?  
  
You know, I keep expecting for someone to jump out at any given moment, laugh, and then pat me on the back and tell me what a wonderful joke it all was. Then, of course, I would have to kill them; too bad it hasn't happened yet.  
  
"Harry, do you think we'll be out of here soon?" Longbottom asks, running to catch up with the both of us, as he keeps getting sidetracked by looking at everything.   
  
"I hope so, Neville."   
  
Of course you do, Potter, of course you do. You know what I hope? I hope that someday your body is fried alive and made into duck food. Doesn't that sound positively **wonderful**?  
  
Then I'll never have to look at your damned face ever again.  
  
  
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It took exactly two hours for the three of us to realize that we had been walking in a gigantic circle all of this time and hadn't made any progress towards getting out of here. I suppose it was when Potter and I started fighting over who was at fault _there_ that Longbottom was actually the one to alert us that he could see an opening (or exit, if you'd rather) a few feet away.  
  
Apparently Potter and I have this hard time grasping the obvious. Either that or Longbottom is very observant.   
  
Therefore, it was with all of us soaked and exhausted that came crawling out of the forest, and somehow managed to drag ourselves all the way back up to the castle.   
  
I must say....I have never been happier to see Hogwarts. Just the mere thought that I would soon be safely tucked away in my common room was the most comfort I had felt in a while. Of course, none of this was helped by the fact that McGonagall somehow knew the exact moment we would enter the castle and was impatiently waiting for us.   
  
She looked as if she had been out there with us, to say the truth. Perhaps worry does that to a person.   
  
Potter was already looking guilty about the whole mess. Longbottom had somehow managed to come in behind Potter and myself, therefore the lucky Gryffindor got to use us as a shield from the Professor's wrath. And as for me? I was just ready for her to start yelling and taking away points.   
  
And she did look as if she might start screaming at any moment. Beyond looking extremely tired, she looked like we had just killed someone, rather than just go missing for most of the night.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy."   
  
Here it comes....Apparently she's going to attack me first. Oh, goody.  
  
"Where are your shoes?"  
  
Someone shoot me.  
  
  
  
**Author Notes (even more of 'em):** Thank all of you very much for the reviews of the first chapter, as well as for reading this chapter here. For those of you that mentioned the snog in chapter one seemed sketchy and without much reason: thanks for noticing :) It is intended though and should be explained later on (should be, because you never know with me). Even though no one noticed, apparently I misspelled "Gryffindor" several times in the first chapter. Apologies all around for the slip-up ^_^;  
  
Hey, you know, we might actually get some plot into this story later on. Wow. I suppose that means I'll need to think of one then. Although, at this rate, there is a very good chance there will be quite a few slashy pairings in this story. Because, quite simply, I adore slash. 


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